Sister

Part 14

by Alicia (aisumitsukai at home.com)
2/16/03

And more again... Gosh, this is long....

Chapter Fourteen: Expected

Guided by Holly’s night vision, the Holmes and the faery clambered down the maze of tunnels. They made good time as Holly had given up sprinting after Holmes and now piggy-backed instead. Left, right, left, left, watch out, wall. Holly murmured directions as quietly as possible so as not to attract attentions from any possible passing goblins.

Their original prison came up, to Holmes, seemingly out of nowhere. Depositing Holly, he tried the knob. The door opened without a sound. His brows drawing together in suspicion, Holmes stepped aside with a slight bow, letting Holly in first. After curtsying, Holly slipped through, her eyes flitting around in search of life. Satisfied that the room was empty, she motioned to Holmes, who stepped in, closing the door behind them. Taking hold of his sleeve, Holly guided him over to Watson. The compudroid sat in a heap in the far corner, his usually immaculate coat filthy.

"Shouldn’t there be guards?" Holmes hissed as Holly fumbled with the font panel.

"Not unless Moriarty insisted. Goblins are DUMB." With a final wrench, Holly opened the compartment. "Now...." biting her bottom lip, Holly fiddled with the wires.

"The blue wire to the gold socket, the red to the silver."

Holly snorted, "I know," and snapped in the wires.

There was a buzz and Watson’s eyes snapped open, his voice metallically sliding in and out of his usual voice. As his vocals set he nodded to Holly and Holmes. "Hello!" he managed at last. "Where are we, Holmes?"

Nodding resignedly, Holmes brought Watson up to date.

"Oh, my! Well, we must go back to the others and get out of here before Miss Short’s people get here, hadn’t we?" Watson stood up and brushed himself off. "Dear Lord, poor Lestrade, though.... what are we going to do about all this?"

Holmes nodded quietly and followed Watson out of the room, Holly trailing silently along behind them.

*******

A week later, Beth Lestrade brushed dirt off the knees of her black pants as she stood up from the grave. Behind her Holmes and Watson stood silently. The gravestone was plain and the bouquet of crocuses at its base was simple. But it was more than, in life, Martin Fenwick had ever expected.

And more again... Gosh, this is long....

On to the Epilogues!

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